


Hump Day

by Morgana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Smith loved Wednesdays</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hump Day

At precisely 12:03, he turned his phone over to voicemail for lunch, closed and locked his door, turned his light off, then shut his blinds as well. He sat down in his chair, took his cellphone out, and laid it on the desk, drumming his fingers idly on the arm of the chair while he waited. The two minutes before the screen lit up seemed to take forever, but the second the text message alert chimed, he snatched it up.  
  
 _what r u wearing?_  
  
Talk about cheesy and predictable! But he smiled as he replied,  _navy suit, red tie_  
  
 _and underneath?_  
  
Dean blushed, but he still typed in,  _nothing_  
  
There was a pause before he got the reply, as though he'd temporarily short-circuited his lover's brain.  _holy shit thats hot. did u bring it?_  
  
He drew in a sharp breath at the reminder of the plug he'd been told to bring.  _yeah_ , and God, his dick really shouldn't be this hard just thinking about what was going to happen.  
  
 _get it out and work urself open. tell me when ur ready for it._  
  
 _ok._  Dean set the phone down and pulled his top desk drawer open, taking the small bottle of lube he'd started keeping there out. He scooted his chair a little closer to the desk and slid one hand down to open his pants, hissing softly as his dick jerked against the thin material. And God, why couldn't it be Friday already? There were no hours of teasing and torture on Fridays.  
  
He turned his chair around so only the high back was visible to the door and dropped to his knees on the floor. Sex in the office might be exciting, but he wasn't about to get lube on his leather executive chair. Shoving his pants down, he reached for the lube, flicked the bottle open, and squirted some out onto his fingers. It wasn't the most comfortable position, trying to brace himself on one arm and reach behind him to open himself up with the other, but at least this way he stood half a chance of not getting found out if somebody happened to come to the door.  
  
If this was Friday, or better yet, Saturday, he'd have taken his time, eased one finger in and gotten himself good and wet before moving on, but it was Wednesday, so he shoved both in at once, gasping at the burn as his body protested the stretch. It was good, though, a sweet-hot burn that had him shoving back onto his fingers before he was all the way ready, his body taking over as though it knew there was something really good coming and it couldn't wait for it. Like him, really.  
  
The prep wasn't as thorough as it could've been, but he still managed to make sure he was well-lubricated before he eased his fingers out, knelt back up and grabbed his phone, grateful for the auto fill as he typed one-handed,  _ready._  
  
 _u need it?_  
  
 _yes._  
  
For a long moment the phone was silent before it vibrated in his hand and the screen lit up.  _put it in_  
  
Dean tugged his briefcase out from under the desk and popped it open, pulling the vibrating plug out with shaking hands. He slicked it up with fresh lube, leaned forward, and pressed it against his hole. Just like always, there was a moment where it didn't want to go in, but he pushed, bearing down against it and it slid right in, not stopping until the base was snug up against him. "Fuck," he groaned softly, eyelashes fluttering at the sensation of being filled.  
  
He wiped his hands off on the handkerchief he kept in his briefcase, drew the cord to the remote up along the crease of his ass, and pulled his pants up, looping the remote over the waistband so he could tuck it into his pocket with nobody the wiser. _it's in_ , he texted once he was done.  _want me to turn it on now?_  
  
 _not yet_ , was the reply.  _go ahead and have lunch, then turn it on low when u open ur office at 1_  
  
 _got it_ , he sent back. He stood up and sat down carefully, hissing as the plug pressed against his sweet spot, making his dick twitch in response. For several minutes, Dean concentrated on breathing, trying to focus on anything besides how badly he wanted to just fuck himself on the plug until he came, Wednesday or not.  
  
When he felt calmer and somewhat more in control of himself, he took the salad he'd brought from home out of his desk and did his best to eat despite the swarm of butterflies that had taken up residence in his stomach. He tried to act like it was any other day, like he wasn't sitting there with a vibrating butt plug up his ass counting down the minutes until he could turn it on, but he'd never been that good at lying, and he was pretty sure that just about anybody could've seen through him right about then.  
  
One o'clock took forever to come around, but it was finally time. Dean shoved his chair back and went to turn his light on and open the door, although he left the blinds drawn. When he sat back down at his desk, he slipped a hand in his pocket and thumbed the control on, putting it on the lowest setting. It wasn't too intense at this level, just a gentle buzz that felt almost comforting, a thrum that faded easily enough into the background as he settled down to do some serious work.  
  
Just past two, his phone buzzed again.  _turn it up a notch_ , were the instructions, and Dean was happy to comply. This wasn't quite as easy to ignore, since it was more of an actual vibration, and he found himself shifting in his seat as he tried to concentrate on drafting a memo to the Baltimore office. It got worse as the hour wore on, and when he got the message to turn it up again at three, he groaned at the extra jolt. When Pam poked her head into his office and waved the quarter's projections at him, he managed to wave her in, even though he was seriously starting to lose his focus.  
  
Pam was going on and on about the numbers, something about the Cleveland office that Dean really wasn't paying attention to. Instead, he found himself thinking about laying Pam out on his desk, shoving her skirt up and eating her out through her panties while hazel eyes watched and a low voice told him exactly how to do it. He shifted in his chair and barely bit back a groan as the plug moved inside him, rubbing right up against his sweet spot. "Sorry," he said, offering Pam a weak smile when he noticed her staring at him.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
Dean's phone buzzed and he felt heat wash through him at the knowledge of what was coming. "Yeah, I just - lunch isn't sitting all that well," he lied, anxious to get her out of his office. "I'll be okay, though."  
  
She gave him a concerned look, but thankfully didn't press the issue. "If you're sure. Anyway, take a look at those numbers and get back to me as soon as you can, okay?"  
  
"Sure thing." As soon as she was gone, Dean snatched the phone up, shuddering when he saw,  _having fun?_  
  
 _so fucking hard_ , he sent back.  
  
 _want 2 cum?_  
  
As if there was any question in the matter!  _hell yeah_  
  
 _turn it all the way up_  
  
Anticipation coiled low in his gut as he turned the plug up to the maximum speed, hips instinctively rocking forward before he could stop himself. God, he could be glad he wore navy, he thought, because otherwise there would be no question about what he was doing, not with how wet he was getting. Precome was soaking into the fabric, spreading out around his dick to make it even more sensitive as he fought not to just reach down and jerk himself off under the desk.  
  
A knock on the door broke into his thoughts, and he looked up to see a tall figure standing in the doorway. With a polite smile, Dean set the projections aside and beckoned him forward. "Come on in... Sam, isn't it?" he asked, trying to sound like he hadn't screamed his name just last night when he'd been getting pounded through the mattress.  
  
Sam nodded and closed the door behind him, walking over to take a seat in one of the chairs across the desk from Dean. To anybody who happened to glance in, it would look like they were talking over a computer problem, and that wouldn't be too surprising, seeing as how Dean's computer had been experiencing an unusual number of freezes and system failures lately.  
  
"I jerked off before I came down here," Sam told him, smiling at the sharp breath Dean drew at that image. "Had to, or else everybody would've known what I was coming here for." And that was true enough - those cheap khaki slacks the IT department wore definitely weren't cut to disguise a hardon, let alone one the size of Sam's. Hell, he was surprised enough they'd managed to find a uniform to fit him, and maybe a little disappointed, since if they hadn't, Sam could've done his work bare-chested, his muscles flexing as he leaned over the desk to look at the problem on the screen...  
  
"You want to know what I thought about just before I came?" Sam asked, breaking into Dean's fantasy, and he didn't hesitate before he nodded. "I imagined you, kneeling down in front of me, watching me jerk off until I came all over your pretty face. And then I decided that I'm going to do that - jerk off on you in the elevator on the way to the parking garage tonight. You want to wear my come home, Dean?"  
  
It took him a few seconds to remember how to speak, but he eventually managed to breathe, "Yeah." He could just imagine it, could practically feel the warm, thick splash of come on his skin, and he wanted it enough to make him dizzy. "Please."  
  
Sam grinned at him. "You seem kind of uncomfortable, there." He leaned forward a little and lowered his voice. "Are you close, baby? You've had that plug in all day and it's on high now, isn't it? Bet it's driving you crazy, bet you want to just ride it until you get off, fuck yourself on it like you do on my cock, wouldn't you?"  
  
"Yeah." Dean knew he was whimpering now, but he really didn't care, not when Sam was sitting there talking to him, spinning filth in that low voice of his that always got to him.  
  
Slowly standing up, Sam walked around the desk and bent over like he was checking something out on Dean's screen. "I'm going to fuck you so hard tonight," he told him. "Bend you over the couch as soon as we get inside and just hammer you until you scream."  
  
Dean licked his dry lips and tried not to spontaneously combust. "Oh, God... Sam, please." He was about two seconds from losing it and dropping to his knees to beg for it; he didn't give a damn who might see them or overhear, not if it meant he could finally come.  
  
Before he could throw his entire career away, Sam reached out to put one hand on the mouse, the other dropping down to cover the hard line of Dean's dick. "Come."  
  
He didn't even think of trying to hold back; he just sucked in a breath and came, shooting against Sam's hand over and over again. His slacks were going to a complete mess, but Dean didn't care. He'd gotten used to a staggeringly high dry cleaner's bill ever since Sam had come into his life, and he was even starting to get used to the look he got when the plump little Asian woman behind the counter saw him walk in carrying yet another bundle of come-crusted clothes. He really couldn't complain, not when every stain had a scorchingly hot story behind it.  
  
When he came back to earth, he found that Sam had turned the plug off and was staring down at him with a dark, hungry look. "Pack it up," he said in a low voice. "I came in early today, so I'm leaving now, and you're coming with me."  
  
Dean briefly considered objecting, since he still had to go over Pam's numbers and finish that letter he was working on for Mr Adler, but then he thought about Sam jerking off in the elevator, and decided the hell with it. He routinely put in twelve-hour days; he was entitled to slipping out early occasionally. It took all of five minutes to fire off an email to Mr Adler letting him know that he was leaving, turn his computer off, and follow Sam over to the door. He locked up and they started down the hallway to get an early start on the night.  
  
Dean might bitch about the teasing, but he still loved Wednesdays.


End file.
